Didn't We Meet at a Hijacking?
by LadyOscar23
Summary: When a wedding in an art museum reunites Five-O with friends old and new, what could possibly go wrong? Set in the (slash) storyline of "The Telephone Rang," shortly after "Three Perfectly Awful Days in Honolulu".


**Author's Note: **This is for SeenaC, whose encouragement while I was posting the hijacking story led to me giving my OCs more life. I wrote this check-in with them as a little thank you. (And then took forever to finish it up and post it, in my family's tradition of belated gifts.)

I recommend reading "Three Perfectly Awful Days in Honolulu" first (you can find it on AO3, where I am "Lady Oscar" - there's a direct link from my profile on this site), but just as a brief introduction, Captain Carlton, Gracie, and Lauren Miller were all on the hijacked airliner with Danny. Paul Jones is an old friend of Steve's from the Navy, and Gwen and Stephanie are flight attendants who are friends of Gracie and acquaintances of Danny and Steve.

(The version of this story on AO3 has a link to a map of the museum.)

My thanks to Buffy for beta-reading!

Hawaii note: Ewa is to the west of Honolulu, and is often used to indicate that direction.

* * *

"Darn it, I still can't get this straight," Dan Williams said in frustration as he struggled with his bowtie in front of the bedroom mirror in Steve McGarrett's condo.

"Here, Danno, let me." Steve had finished his own preparations and was watching his partner.

Danny turned, his fingers suddenly stopping in their task, and his eyes widening. _Wow...I've guess I've never seen Steve in a tux before. He looks like James Bond, and just...wow._

"There, that should do," McGarrett said, giving the tie a last tweak and his partner an appreciative smile. "Formalwear suits you, Danno. And if you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to be late."

Danny flushed. "Steve...you look..."

"I'm glad you think so. So do you," Steve said, giving him a quick kiss. "Now, we'd better go. They wanted us there by six to go over the arrangements."

Pausing before the front door, Danny said, "Wait, Steve," opening the drawer of the small hall stand and removing his ankle holster and back up .22 pistol.

McGarrett raised his eyebrows. "Expecting trouble?"

"Better safe than sorry," his partner said, strapping on the holster and arranging his pants leg over it.

On their way down, the elevator stopped to admit an elderly woman holding a small, fluffy dog.

"Why, don't you boys look handsome," she said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Caraway," McGarrett answered. "I trust you and Coco are well?"

"Why yes, dear, thank you for asking," the woman said, giving Coco a pat on the head. "So where are you two headed, all dressed up like that? Some sort of state dinner?"

Danny smiled at her. "No, ma'am, a wedding."

* * *

Danny and Steve joined a small gathering of formally dressed men in a meeting room at the Honolulu Academy of Arts.

"Thank you two so much for coming to stand up with me," Captain John Carlton said, earnestly shaking their hands.

"We're honored," Danny assured him.

"Well, there wouldn't be any wedding if it weren't for Five-O rescuing Gracie and me. Let me introduce you to everyone you don't know," he added, leading Danny and Steve over to where Kono was apparently regaling the rest of the wedding party with a humorous story. "Peter, Luke, meet Dan Williams and Steve McGarrett of Five-O."

As they shook hands, a man who bore a strong resemblance to a younger version of the groom arrived. "Okay, John, I vouched for the florist to the guards," he said. "As soon as she's done, the room will be ready to go. One of the caterers was demanding to come in to see the space, but I told him he'd have to wait until after the ceremony. He wasn't happy, but they're already twitchy about the florists' assistants carrying boxes in and out."

"Well, I understand they have to be careful. Danny, Steve, this here is my brother Mark," Carlton said.

"Extra security for the Raphael?" McGarrett asked.

"There sure is. We're going to Italy on our honeymoon, and when Gracie heard about the visiting Italian Renaissance exhibition here she got her heart set on our being married in that room. The museum agreed as long as we paid for the guards' overtime," John explained. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that United's regional director is on their board."

"Well, I'm sure everyone can rest easy, with all of Five-O here!" Mark said, laughing.

* * *

As he waited beside Steve in the line of groomsmen, Danny glanced over at Captain Carlton, who looked determinedly resolute, then cast his gaze around the gallery room, occupied at this end by rows of fidgeting seated guests. His eyes passed over a large Crucifixion to come to rest on a small Madonna and Child, the young woman's pleasant features and pastoral setting seeming an appropriate accompaniment to the festive occasion at hand. _So, that's the Raphael, huh?_ he thought. _I'd like to see Italy someday...with Steve..._

His daydreams of a honeymoon with his partner were interrupted by a stir in the room as the string quartet in one corner started playing, heralding the arrival of a line of women in flowing pale blue dresses. As the bridesmaids filed past to take their places, Danny recognized Stephanie, who gave him a flirtatious look, Lauren Miller, who smiled warmly, and Gwen, the maid of honor, who cast a critical look around the decorated room.

Finally the bride made her entrance, tall and slender in a simple white gown, a halo of white blossoms atop her golden hair. As she approached, her groom's rather grim expression softened, and he stood transfixed.

Danny, observing the change, thought with a pang of regret, _Steve and I will never stand like that, declaring our love in front of our friends. But at least we can still stand beside each other, and that's more than I expected a few weeks ago, for us or the bride and groom._ As the ceremony started, he looked up at Steve, their eyes meeting.

The traditional words continued, the necessary questions were asked and answered, and the rings exchanged with no more than the usual awkwardness. The minister finally concluded, with a flourish, "You may kiss the bride!"

The groom, his bride's hands clasped in his, rather shyly did so, to the approbation of the gathering. Gracie tucked her hand securely into his arm and they walked back down the aisle, their beaming faces boding well for future marital happiness.

Bridesmaids and groomsmen followed in turn, Danny, with Stephanie on his arm, following Steve and Lauren between the rows of chairs.

* * *

The entire company adjourned to the adjacent courtyard while the chairs were whisked out of the gallery under the watchful eyes of the security guards. In the center of the square a fountain splashed playfully. The space around it was lit with sparkling lights and filled with small round tables, the guests enjoying the soft tropical night as waiters passed trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Danny, still accompanied by Stephanie, and Steve stood at one of the high tables with glasses in hand, talking to Lauren and Bob Miller.

"That was beautiful," Lauren said. "Gracie looks positively radiant, and I'm so glad to see John back on his feet."

"I'm sure Gracie is, too. She must have been getting awfully tired of that hospital room," Bob said. "Though of course the romance of sitting at the bedside of the fallen hero has its appeal..."

"Bob! You hovered over me for at least a week after we got off the plane, and I wasn't even hurt," Lauren said, laughing.

"I did no such..." Bob began, looking abashed, and then relieved as he was interrupted by the arrival of Kono, enthusiastically consuming a canapé.

"You've got to try one of these!" he exclaimed, looking around for the right waiter. "They're made with Aunt Leilani's own homemade sausage."

"Don't tell me, you recommended the caterer?" Danny asked, laughing.

"Of course! You think after all they went through I'd let them get married without plenty of good food?" Kono asked indignantly. "And they're going to have a great band, too. Some of my cousin's friends."

"In that case, Danny, you have to _promise_ to dance with me," Stephanie declared, oblivious to the forbidding look Steve, standing on her other side, was directing down at her.

"Er...I...of course..." Danny said, grateful to be interrupted by Gwen, making the rounds of the courtyard.

"The exhibition room is open now, if you'd like to take a closer look at the paintings," she announced.

Stephanie turned to Danny. "Hey, Danny, why don't we..." she began.

"You _must_ come and show me that Pinturicchio altarpiece you were telling me about," Lauren said, seizing the arm of Five-O's second in command. "It sounded _fascinating..._"

"Of...of course," Danny agreed somewhat bemusedly, and the two moved off, Lauren throwing Steve a wink on her way past.

"Come, you should all go," Gwen encouraged, shepherding the rest of the group.

As McGarrett followed his partner into the gallery room, he thought ruefully, _Was I that obvious? Probably. Nice of her, though._ He admired the Raphael, his height allowing him to see over the crowd already forming around it. A waiter with a tray collected his empty glass before being intercepted by Gwen.

"Excuse me, but where on _earth_ are the shrimp puffs?" she demanded. "I haven't seen one tray!"

"Um...I'm...I'm not sure," the hapless waiter temporized, looking around desperately. "Maybe...we forgot them?"

"You'd better not have!" she exclaimed. "Gracie _especially_ wanted them, because John said he liked them, and I'm not having anything go wrong with her day!"

"I'll, uh, go check now," the waiter said, making his escape.

"The food is good so far, but I just don't _know_," Gwen said exasperatedly to Steve. "I'd better go check on the buffet, make sure they got _that_ right! Please excuse me."

"Mr. McGarrett! Isn't she lovely?" The museum's director materialized at Steve's elbow, gazing fondly at the Madonna.

"She is, Mr. Shirohata," McGarrett agreed. "Quite a coup for the Academy, having an exhibit of this caliber."

"We're very proud," Shirohata said, beaming.

McGarrett finished his circuit of the room, then headed outside, where a buffet heavily laden with food now ran along one side of the courtyard. He joined the crowd around the table next to a familiar face. "Mrs. Kelly, you look lovely tonight."

"Why, thank you. It's nice to get out of the house once in a while," she said, picking up a pastry object and adding it to the heaped plate she carried. "What's in these?" she asked the server standing behind the table.

"They're shrimp puffs, ma'am."

"So that's where they got to," Steve observed. "The maid of honor was worried."

"The bride, she asked for them special, so we decided to put them on the table, make sure everyone get some," the caterer explained.

Steve followed her back to a table where Chin was talking to Danny, still accompanied by Stephanie and the Millers.

"Here, I got you some of everything," Mrs. Kelly declared, setting the plate she carried down in front of her husband.

"You spoil me," he said, beaming at her.

"Hi, Steve!" Danny greeted his partner.

Steve was about to set his plate down when the mother of the bride appeared at his elbow, a striking figure in dark blue silk and a glittering array of diamonds. "Mr. McGarrett! So glad you could make it, Gracie's told me all about the thrilling rescue. You simply _have_ to come meet my sister Lorna, she's dying to hear all about it."

"I...of course," Steve said, throwing a glance at Danny before giving in to the inevitable.

At the table he was led to were not only Lorna, a handsome woman a few years younger than her sister, but also Shirohata and the regional vice president for United. Steve took advantage of this fact to divert the conversation from the hijacking to the special exhibit.

"Good publicity not only for the museum, but for the whole city," the airline executive observed. "A sign that we've arrived, culturally speaking!"

"These islands have had their own culture for quite a while," McGarrett observed neutrally, trying a shrimp puff from his plate. _Hm...almost worth the fuss._

"Of course! And we at this institution celebrate bringing art and culture together from all over the world...Asia, Europe, and right here at home," Shirohata earnestly assured him.

"I think we're going to get some local culture now," said the United executive as the band that had been setting up in one corner of the courtyard came to life.

_That must be Kono's cousin, _Steve thought, observing the aloha-shirted bandleader as the musicians enthusiastically launched into their first number. _They're not bad...good food, good music, lovely setting...and the bride and groom certainly look happy dancing together..._

The pleasant tenor of his thoughts was interrupted by seeing Stephanie leading Danny onto the dance floor to join the increasing number of couples there, and he firmly turned his attention back to his plate. _Just a dance...but one more thing we can't do together. Though, it would be fun to try with Danno at home sometime..._ he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a private smile.

When Steve had finished his food he no longer had an excuse to ignore the pointed looks from the mother of the bride, and did his duty with Lorna on the dance floor, before developing a sudden desire to mingle with his fellow guests.

* * *

Danny looked both ways, then slipped out a side door. _It's not fair to Steve to make him watch me dance with her all night, and anyway, a breath of fresh air wouldn't hurt,_ he thought, tugging at his tight collar. He strolled around the corner of the museum to where two catering vans were parked in a small lot on the Ewa side of the building, a wisp of cigarette smoke and the sounds of a conversation in low tones wafting up from behind the far one.

_I wonder if Steve's ever guessed I quit smoking because I knew he didn't like it?_ Danny mused, idly strolling around the vans. _Probably not. It was before we were together...well, together _this_ way. Steve in a tuxedo...I'm looking forward to tonight, after we get home..._

Lost in pleasant thoughts as he rounded the corner of the van, Danny abruptly became aware that in front of him were a group consisting of three men in waiter's uniforms, a man in a suit, and a woman in a pale dress in earnest conference, and that one of the waiters had just hissed, "We didn't bargain for all of Five-O being here!"

Before Five-O's second-in-command could draw his concealed weapon, another man exclaimed, "Shit! That's one of them!" and the three of them were upon him.

Danny, hampered by his close-fitting jacket and tight collar, fought for all he was worth. He felt one of his fists hit home on an assailant's face with a satisfying crunch, but then an uppercut knocked him back, his head slamming into the side of the van. Momentarily stunned, he took a sharp blow to his midsection and staggered backwards against the corner of the van's bumper, losing his balance and falling. He felt his ankle twist under him with a sharp pain as he tried to catch himself, and ended up lying dazed on the pavement as his assailants held him immobilized, his cheek pressed against the damp asphalt.

"What'll we _do_?" demanded the man whose knee was pressing into the small of Danny's back as he held the detective's arm bent at an uncomfortable angle. "This was supposed to be an easy job, no rough stuff."

"We have to call it off!" said the one sitting on the Danny's feet.

"Nonsense," snapped a voice from above, presumably the suited man, who had stayed out of the fray. "Tie him up with something and put him in the back of the van. We only need a few more minutes, and we can dump him when we leave."

"Should we knock him out?" asked the third man, who was leaning his weight on Danny's shoulders, rather eagerly.

"No. We don't want to risk killing him," said the woman crisply. "We're thieves, not murderers. Just gag him in case the real caterers come back. And hurry!"

"Be glad of it, cop," the suited man growled. "Now, I have a gun on you, so no funny business."

"Here, we can use this," said one of the waiters.

There was a tug as Danny's bowtie was undone and pulled free of his collar. He felt a pang as he remembered Steve tying it earlier that evening. _Steve...clearly they're here to steal the Raphael, and they're armed...I have to warn him,_ he thought desperately as he felt his wrists being bound behind his back.

* * *

"Steve!" Paul Jones called in greeting as McGarrett joined his old friend at one of the small tables surrounding the dance floor.

"Jonesey," McGarrett returned with a smile. "We meet again under happier circumstances."

"Of all the things that came out of that mess, I would never have guessed a wedding," his friend agreed.

"Love will find a way," Steve said.

"Speaking of which, where's your other half?" Jones asked. "I'd like to say hello..."

McGarrett frowned, surveying the festively-lit courtyard. Kono had joined the band and was energetically playing a large drum, the Millers were talking to Mrs. Kelly, Bob apparently telling a joke. Chin was smoking his pipe in a corner and talking to a guest Steve didn't recognize, and the best man and maid of honor were dancing together. The bride and groom were nowhere in evidence, nor was Danny. "I haven't seen him for a while. Maybe he's inside looking at the paintings."

"No, I just came from in there. A very nice collection to come through our little outpost of civilization here," Jones observed.

"Excuse me a minute, would you? I'll just see if Danno's feeling okay..." Steve said, setting his glass down on the table and heading towards the gallery entrance. _It must be at least half an hour since I saw him last. You know he's not with that girl, don't be an idiot..._ he told himself as he crossed the courtyard.

Upon entering the temporary exhibition room McGarrett found himself waylaid by the girl in question.

"Have you seen Danny?" Stephanie asked. "I wanted to ask him to dance with me again, but he doesn't seem to be _anywhere_."

"No, I haven't," Steve told her, a faint stirring of alarm prickling in the back of his mind. "Excuse me..."

He headed out the side door of the room and checked the nearby corridors, seeing no one except for a couple tucked away in a shadowy corner, apparently for privacy. The restroom likewise contained no sign of his partner, and the doors leading to the closed portions of the museum were properly locked.

Heading outside, Steve circled the end of the building, coming to a parking lot with two catering vans parked side by side. _'Aunt Leilani's Kitchen,' that's the one Kono was talking about, and 'Yoshida Fine Foods'...I wonder which one made the shrimp puffs?_ he wondered irrelevantly. Seeing no one at either vehicle, he continued to walk the perimeter of the building, finding no further signs of life.

_Damn it, where _is_ he?_ McGarrett thought as he re-entered the gallery. He checked to see that the three guards were present at the entrances. _I don't know why, but something's bothering me. What is it?_ he asked himself, looking sharply around the room.

Nothing seemed amiss. Guests stood in small clumps drinking and talking, or strolling from painting to painting. A waiter with a tray was looking for empty glasses, while another circulated with hors d'oeuvres.

_Little things...that bit between Gwen and the waiter about the shrimp puffs. The caterer wanting to come in early. And now I can't find Danno._ He automatically checked on the Raphael Madonna, who smiled unhelpfully at him.

McGarrett's attention was suddenly caught by a commotion at the far end of the room. A blonde woman in a pale pink dress was shrieking, a red stain spreading down the front of her garment.

For a second he thought it was blood, but the sparkle of broken glass on the floor suggested red wine, as did the fact that the woman's companion was clutching the same unfortunate waiter Gwen had interrogated by the collar, drawing back his fist to punch the trapped man in the face. The woman screamed and grabbed ineffectually at the assailant's arm, and the guests milled around excitedly, divided between trying to get out of the way, get a better view, or intervene. As the fight continued, the security guards converged on the fray.

McGarrett was about to join them, when some impulse made him pause. _Caterers...waiters..._ He glanced over at the Madonna. She was gone.

Seeing a flash of black and white slipping through the nearest doorway, Steve didn't hesitate.

The waiter, glancing over his shoulder at his pursuer, bolted out the side door and along the side of the building, still clutching his tray, Steve running flat-out behind him. As they rounded the corner, a man abruptly stepped from behind a bush, pointing a gun at McGarrett.

"Stop right there!" the newcomer, also dressed as a waiter, ordered. "You got it?" he asked Steve's erstwhile quarry.

"I got it!" the first waiter answered between gasps for breath.

"Great. Get the van started. We'll keep the other one as a hostage until everyone's clear," instructed the man with the gun.

_They must have Danno,_ Steve thought,with a stab of alarm. Aloud, he snapped, "Let him go! You don't want to be held responsible for kidnapping a cop!"

"We need him as insurance."

"Then I'm afraid you're out of luck," Five-O's second-in-command said, stepping from behind the bush to hold his .22 pointed at the armed conspirator's head. "Drop it!"

As the man with the gun turned in surprise, McGarrett leapt on him, giving him a punch to the jaw and neatly disarming him.

"Are you okay, Danno?" Steve asked his partner, holding the captured weapon on the two thieves. "What happened?"

"I'm fine. They tied me up and left me in their van, but fortunately they weren't any better at tying a bow tie than I am," Danny told him with a grin.

"Let's get these two inside and see what we can do about rounding up their friends," McGarrett said. "Danno, bring that tray. Careful, it has precious cargo."

"I took the keys out of the van's ignition," Danny said, limping painfully over to pick up the wooden oblong as Steve herded the thieves ahead of them towards the building. Turning it over to look at the bottom, he whistled. "Is that what I think it is? Nice little trick..."

"What's wrong with your leg?" McGarrett demanded.

"I just twisted my ankle a bit. I can walk," his partner claimed.

"Come lean on my left shoulder," Steve instructed. "You two, no sudden moves!"

Inside the gallery, the bedlam seemed to have been brought under control. The angry man was shaking hands with the assaulted waiter, the crowd of onlookers was beginning to break up, and as the strangely assorted quartet entered the room one of the security guards came to meet them.

"Everything's fine here now, Mr. McGarrett," the guard began, then his eyes widened as he saw the detectives' guns. "What..." the guard automatically glanced towards where the painting had hung, then froze in horror as he realized it was missing.

"Block the exits to the museum, and call HPD," McGarrett snapped at the stunned man.

"It's gone!" the guard shouted.

"Go!" McGarrett ordered, glad to see familiar faces hurrying towards him amid the suddenly converging crowd. "Chin, Kono! The man and woman who created the disturbance, and that waiter...find them and keep them here. Duke! Come take these two until backup arrives." He spotted the best man and maid of honor side-by-side. "Mr. Carlton, Miss Evans! Please have the guests move out to the courtyard and wait there. No one is to leave."

The museum director burst through the ring of onlookers to stand in front of the empty space on the wall. "This can't be happening!" he moaned. He turned to Steve. "_Do_ something, Mr. McGarrett!"

"Mr. Shirohata, we've already done something," the head of Five-O said with a smile. "If you'd care to take charge of the tray Detective Williams is holding, I think you'll find what you're looking for."

As Shirohata dazedly took the inverted tray from Danny's hands, Lauren Miller appeared beside him.

"Are the two of you okay?" she asked. "Steve, you've hurt your hand…."

"Just who I wanted to see," McGarrett told her. "Danno's injured. Can you look after him?"

"Of course," she said, over Danny's protest, turning to her husband. "Bob, would you bring my bag from the car?"

Kono hurried over, breathing hard. "Steve! We got the two who started the fight, but the waiter gave us the slip," he reported. "The guards are searching around the outside for him."

"Did you say you were looking for a waiter?" asked a new voice, and all eyes turned to see the bride and groom, the latter holding a man in a waiter's uniform captive with one arm twisted neatly behind his back.

"Yes, that's the one we're missing," Steve said. "Where did you find him?"

"Well...Gracie and me were around the corner, having a...a little chat, in private, you know..." he began, Gracie's blush belying his words. "We heard the ruckus in here and came to see what was up, only to have this guy barrel into us running the other way. I thought that seemed a mite strange, so I figured I'd bring him along to see what the trouble was."

"It's here!" the museum director declared, kneeling on the floor in front of the tray, and suddenly the room was full of uniformed HPD officers.

* * *

"All's well that ends well," Captain Carlton declared to the small group standing in front of the re-hung Raphael. "I hope this hasn't spoiled your evening," he added solicitously to his bride.

"Of course not! It was so exciting!" she said, looking up at him with shining eyes.

"Five-O saves the day again," observed the United V. P.

"I can't tell you how grateful we at the museum are," Shirohata assured them earnestly for at least the fifth time.

"I think Gracie and me'll be heading out," Carlton said, shaking hands with Chin, Kono, and Danny, who was leaning on Steve's shoulder, then substituting a clasp of Steve's forearm in deference to the bandage Lauren had applied to his skinned knuckles. "I hope you boys aren't in for too much red tape tonight."

"With any luck, we'll make it home before dawn," Steve said ruefully.

* * *

The sky was lightening noticeably as McGarrett pulled the big Mercury into the parking lot of his condo building. He helped his partner out of the car, and the two of them proceeded slowly towards the building, Steve supporting Danny as he limped.

"We'll get you some crutches today," he promised.

"It's just twisted—I'm sure it will be fine by tomorrow," Danny said, yawning, as they entered the building's lobby.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the woman they had encountered the evening before, once again accompanied by her dog.

"Good heavens!" Mrs. Caraway exclaimed.

"Good morning, ma'am," McGarrett managed._ Oh, hell. I didn't think about how this must look,_ he thought, taking stock of their condition. Danny, leaning on Steve's shoulder, was in shirtsleeves wearing only one shoe, both men had their collars undone, and the bruise on Danny's face, the bandage on Steve's hand, and the general disarray of their clothing did not seem compatible with an elegant evening.

"That must have been some party!" Mrs. Caraway laughed. "I was taking little Coco out for her morning walk, and here's you two just coming home." She set the small dog on the floor, where it started investigating Steve's pants leg.

"Yes...yes, it certainly was," McGarrett told her abstractedly. "I'm sure you can read about it in the newspaper this morning." _How on earth do I explain that Danno's come home with me? And after she saw us leaving together...I should have been more careful,_ he berated himself as he leaned forward to desperately punch the elevator button with the hand holding Danny's shoe.

Steve's sudden motion having upset his balance, Danny swayed, awkwardly catching himself against his partner.

"Mr. McGarrett," Mrs. Caraway said, leaning forward to examine Danny. "You're not going to let this young man drive home in his condition, are you?"

"Of course not. He'll be sleeping it off on my couch," Steve assured her, hurriedly helping his second-in-command into the elevator.

"Get some rest!" she called after them as the elevator ascended.

After locking the front door of the condo safely behind them, McGarrett turned to his partner. "Sorry about that back there, Danno. I figured it was safer not to correct her assumption."

"So, I'm sleeping on the couch, am I?" Danny asked, smiling.

"Not on your life," Steve said firmly. "Come on, let's see if we can make it to the bedroom..."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The miscreants' M. O. is loosely based on my recollection of my husband's description of a reality-type TV show he saw once in which a group of people commit actual crimes (I guess with permission) to show how they can be done. So far my Googling has totally failed to turn up the name of the show, so if you recognize it from this admittedly vague description, please let me know!

Cover image is from "Webmuseum, Paris" (www . ibiblio wm /) and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License (www . creativecommons licenses / by-sa / 3.0 /) (remove spaces). It is unmodified except in size.


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